


Stop Studying

by Rosy_el



Series: The Sunshine Boy and the Snowflake Girl [13]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mileven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:03:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8366365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosy_el/pseuds/Rosy_el
Summary: Their kisses hardly ever lasted this long: longer than a peck plus a couple moments. But something in El itched.  (In which things between a sixteen-year-old El and Mike grow a bit more heated.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm like blushing as I post this.

May, 1988

“Mike, you’ve been studying for what—three hours?” El’s feet sat in Mike’s lap, his massive A.P. Chemistry textbook resting atop her thick white socks. His dark eyes looked dull and there were notes and books strewn everywhere on the couch and the old D&D table he had dragged over. “I’m almost done with this,” she held up her worn copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ , “again.”

Mike turned another page and then rubbed his face. “If I want a scholarship to—”

“You’re going to get a scholarship to MIT, Mike,” El pulled her feet out of his lap and stuck the postcard she used as a bookmark into the novel’s spine. It was an old Mt. Rushmore card Mike had sent her a year or so back when his family had driven there over spring break. He hadn’t wanted to go that bad, preferring to sticking around Hawkins with the girl who now held the official title of Mike Wheeler’s Girlfriend. He avoided using the term out loud though, considering the blush on top of the blush it brought to his face. “We _all_ know you’re getting a scholarship to MIT.”

Mike shook his head. “Watch, now that you’ve all been saying that for so long I won’t even get in,” He pushed the chemistry book onto the coffee table. “You’ve jinxed it thirty times over by now,” he smirked, rolling his sore shoulders. He’d been bent over those books for what felt like ages.

“Impossible,” El replied, tossing _To Kill a Mockingbird_ on top of the dismissed textbook. She picked up a round maroon velvet pillow and threw it onto Mike’s lap. Her aim was perfect—a far cry from Mike’s. El laid down smoothly across the basement sofa, head resting on the plush pillow. She grinned up at Mike. “Now take a break.”

He sighed as if he wasn’t yearning for one—he’d actually been studying for five hours since the school bell rang at 3:15. Finals were coming up within a matter of weeks and Mike was determined to blow the admissions boards away. That wasn’t really necessary though—he’d already been receiving letters from prestigious universities since the tenth grade.

Mike looked down at her, taking in her soft features and wavy hair—cropped shorter now, just below her jaw. He liked it that way. He really liked it when she tucked her hair behind her ear; it was habit he had observed whenever she got nervous or shy. Her face would get flushed and she’d look at the ground, nimble fingers pushing the hair away from her cheekbone. “Okay,” he settled, elbow slung casually up on the couch’s armrest. “What do you want to do?”

El hummed and adjusted her purple floral button-up; the front had become a little untucked from her jeans when she had laid down. Mike tried not to look at the line of skin it had exposed on El’s stomach, instead averting his eyes to ground. She shrugged. “Whatever you want to do.”

Mike knew what he wanted to do. He glanced quickly at her mouth and then scratched the back of his neck. Well into his sixteenth year of life and his junior year of high school, kissing Eleven was nearly about the only thing on his mind. Well, that and school. But El beat that out still, and pretty easily. What textbook could compete with El Hopper?

El had just turned sixteen in March and looked very different from her November 1983 self. She had gained weight and was strong and healthy now—not the waifish girl she once was. It sometimes frustrated El when she examined her own reflection that her body wasn’t shaped quite like Nancy’s—the first real girl she had ever met and the first beauty ideal she had ever created in her mind. Where Nancy was thin and petite and willowy, El was smooth and soft and more filled out. Mike had noticed the subtle curves starting to form around El’s waist and chest starting around the summer of ’85. So had the other guys at school—Mike would always feel his chest tighten and his jaw clench when he saw the other high school boys’ eyes linger on El when he walked her to class. She was totally oblivious, having no concrete knowledge of hormones or teenage sensuality or even sex in general. Mandatory health class had been held in the eighth grade, after all, and she had only started school in ninth. El simply knew she felt good when Mike held her hand or kissed her. But Mike was hesitant to push her any further than the modest kisses that rarely turned long and deep.

Mike bounced his knee up and down and brought his hand to the crown of El’s head, brushing through her hair with his fingers. Eleven’s eyes glinted and she wore a small smile. She loved when Mike played with her hair. Mike brought his face down to lay a gentle kiss on El’s forehead, his mouth meeting the edge of her eyebrow. “I don’t care what we do,” he lied.

Eleven lifted the same eyebrow Mike had kissed and her eyes held a mischievous light. “Okay, then.” Her fingers found the collar of his navy blue and white striped shirt and she pulled on it, drawing his face closer. She looked up at him, innocent and playful. “Tell me a secret.”

It was a game they liked to play in the quiet in-between moments of homework and stress and life in general. El asked for a secret and Mike would deliver. They weren’t dark or deep necessarily but rather little anecdotes of when Mike was little or funny thoughts he had during class about the teacher or a weird classmate. They always made her laugh.

Mike nodded and thought hard. “I’ve probably told you this one before,” they’d played the Secret Game for a couple years now and he was running out of material, “but I used to be scared of umbrellas when I was really little.” El was already giggling. She remembered that one from another round of the game. “Oh, and I would cry every time I sneezed.” That was a new one for El and she laughed harder, clutching her stomach. She looked back up at him and he could feel his heart pinched. It did every time. “I’ve got this one _really_ embarrassing secret though,” Mike started, fingers still musing through her loose curls. El perked up. “I have…” he interrupted himself, “I can’t even—it’s just too embarrassing.”

El whined and shifted to pull on his arm in protest. “Tell me, Mike!” She begged, music in her voice.

“Do you…” Mike became very serious all at once. His expression silenced Eleven and she searched his face timidly. “Do you promise not to tell anyone?”

El turned and laid on her side, drawing her knees up so they almost touched Mike’s thigh, her head still resting on the velvet pillow atop his lap. She nodded. “I promise.”

Mike sighed. “Okay, well, I…” he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “I have a really big crush on this weird girl name Elev—”

El sat up and smacked him in the chest, laughter rolling off her body in waves. Mike even giggled, hugging her tightly to himself to stop her from hitting him. She squealed and wriggled against him. “Yeah?” She asked through breathy laughter. “Well, I’m dating this mouth breather Mike Wheeler so I don’t know what could possibly be more embarrassing than that.”

“Oh,” Mike loosened his grip on El and pulled back to look at her, “this boyfriend of yours—he’s a real loser, huh?” He smirked and drew El closer, slowly.

El looked back and forth between Mike’s coal-colored eyes, and it felt like she was sinking into a hypnotic state. Back and forth. “Uh-huh.” A murmur.

“Well, maybe,” he brought her face closer carefully, his expression oddly provoking, “you should dump this Mike guy and date me instead.” His mouth was less than an inch from hers, eyes dark and breath cool on her face.

“Uh-huh.” A breath.

Mike’s gaze flicked to El’s lips and he absently licked his own. He smiled and pressed a short kiss to her mouth. Mike drew back, a light crimson dancing on his cheeks. El stared dumbly, a strange stirring erupting in her chest. She reached for his neck and caught his lips again, hard and sure. She could feel Mike move back in surprise and then felt his long black lashes brush her nose as his lids fell closed. Their kisses hardly ever lasted this long: longer than a peck plus a couple moments. But something in El itched.

She sat up and wrapped her arms around Mike’s neck. Then she opened her mouth.

Neither knowing quite what was going on but both with a determination to quickly learn, they moved their mouths together, soft and slow at first. But soon things became natural and they fell into an increasingly heated rhythm, both feeling a blazing flush on their skin. Mike’s hands stayed at his sides awkwardly—he was far too much of a gentleman with El to ever do anything without her asking first—until El pulled her mouth away, breathing slightly labored. Mike felt goosebumps raise on his arms.

 “El?” He whispered. It set her gut on fire.

She took his hands and placed them on her lower back, the same place he’d put them if they were slow dancing. Mike grinned crookedly, shy. She leaned back in and Mike resumed the kiss this time. Without even thinking, El sat up and moved so her knees were on either side of Mike’s legs, shoving the round velvet pillow away.

She wasn’t sure what was happening inside her body as Mike’s torso pressed into her own, his back pushed up against the back of the sofa, his lips moving feverishly with hers. All she knew was it made her feel warm—no, not warm. _Hot_. Like boiling water was trapped underneath her skin. They didn’t notice the lamps in the basement start to flicker, a product of whatever was surging within Eleven.

His left hand was pressed into the curve between her ribcage and hip and his right one was fixed on the back of El’s neck, his thumb just under her ear. Eleven’s hands moved with their own agenda, one woven through his mess of thick black hair, the other wound tight in his shirt collar. It lifted and fell up and down with each heavy breath Mike drew in between kisses.

El was innocent. She had no explanation for the drumming in her veins or the ache in her abdomen. She just knew she didn’t want it to stop any time soon.

Mike felt a telling switch flip in the lower half of his body and suddenly his stomach dropped. “El,” he breathed, trying to pull his lips away. “Maybe we,” kiss, “should,” kiss, “uh,” kiss, “stop?”

Eleven pulled back, a look of confusion and sudden hurt on her face. Her eyes looked predatory almost, Mike thought. All dark and thirsty and it made him burn. “No, no, not that I don’t want to,” he swallowed, mind still on what he was trying to hide below his belt, “keep kissing you but—”

“Okay, then why stop?” El asked, bringing her lips impossibly close to his, taunting him. She let her pulsing mouth barely touch his. Mike thought he was going to lose his mind.

 “Mike! I’m home!” The basement door flew open.

“Oh shit,” Mike choked out from under the pressure of El’s mouth.

“Oh my go—” they hadn’t moved apart fast enough and there Nancy was, at the top of stairs looking down, face bright red at the scene before her and large duffle bag in hand. Mike had completely forgotten about her spending the weekend at home from college.

El fell off him and onto the floor and Mike slammed his chemistry textbook onto his lap.

Silence scarred the room.

Nancy blinked and then turned and walked back out.

“I am such a moron,” Mike breathed, rubbing his eyes. His face matched the color of the vibrant roses Karen grew along the fence in the backyard. Mike prayed Nancy wasn’t already telling his mom what she had just walked in on. He stared straight ahead, afraid that if he looked at El she’d somehow know what he was trying to hide under his textbook. “I, uh, um, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay, El?”

“Okay.”

They hurried upstairs, Mike weirdly jumping ahead of her and sprinting all the way to the top level of the house without another word. That left El searching for her shoes and backpack on the main floor alone, suddenly aware of Nancy sitting at the dining table, lime green duffle resting in front of her. El froze after they made eye contact, only moving to shove her hair behind her ears.

They both heard the shower turn on from upstairs. El turned, quizzically looking up the staircase that Mike had so bizarrely bolted up. _Why is he taking a shower?_

“Hi, El.” Nancy’s voice drew Eleven’s attention from the staircase back to the girl at the dining table. There was now a cool, collected smile on Nancy’s lips. “Sent my baby brother straight to the cold shower, did you?” The smirk stretched.

Eleven went to tuck her hair behind her ears but found it was already tucked back. “Why is he showering?” She asked. “He wasn’t dirty.”

Nancy’s smirk fell and her eyebrows shot up. “Tell me you’re kidding, Eleven.”

El bent her head to the side, a perfectly dazed frown on her face.

Nancy remembered all at once Mike’s taunts about Steve Harrington nearly five years before.

_“What was your test on again? Human anatomy?”_

She felt like she was suddenly getting sweet revenge. It’s best served cold, after all; like her seemingly faultless little brother’s shower water.

“Apparently I’ve got some things to explain to you, El. You should probably sit down for this.”

It was then that El received a _very_ different educational lesson from Nancy Wheeler than she had been previously used to.

El couldn’t look at Mike the same for weeks.


	2. Things are Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now El faced all sorts of new complications—complications she felt in no way prepared to approach. 
> 
> (El is left to deal with everything Nancy explained.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is your requested encore. I doubt it's what you were expecting it to be but I hope it proves good.

May, 1988

El had been acting weird all week and Mike had taken note.

Every time he stopped by her locker and fiddled with the piece of hair that always fell into her eyes as she switched out her books, El seemed to flush brighter and avoid his gaze. Whenever they were together, actually, she seemed _off_. It was like she had reverted to her old self—minimal sentences and abnormally nervous behavior.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Mike asked, dropping his fingers from her stubborn lock of hair. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead. She bit her lip and took a heavy breath, eyes still on the books stacked up in her locker. There were _Star Wars_ trading cards of Yoda training on Dagobah and Luke Skywalker standing under the red and yellow moons of Tatooine taped to the inside of her locker, along with a couple of Mike’s class photos, a polaroid of her and Hopper from Thanksgiving at the Byers’, and a picture that Jonathan had taken of her and all the boys on their first camping trip. El simply nodded her head.

“Uh, yeah, everything’s good.” She pushed an English textbook into her faded pine green Jansport backpack. The textbook was followed by a copy of Ernest Hemingway’s _The Old Man and the Sea_. She slammed the locker shut, blowing some of Mike’s hair from his face. He blinked. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

El turned tail and stalked off down the hall. Mike stood rigid, shoulder still leaned up against the locker beside El’s. “Hey, can I get by?” A male voice shook Mike from his confused trance and he moved to let the guy into his locker.

“Yeah,” Mike’s eyes stayed stuck on El’s slowly shrinking form as she made her way farther down the hallway. “Sorry.”

 --------------------

Mike watched El as she ducked into the packed lunchroom from his place at their usual table. Lucas and Will were already eating; Will had packed a home lunch since ninth grade, uninterested in navigating the chaotic lunch lines of Hawkins High, and Lucas had been released from P.E. early.

Mike observed El talking to some other girls, smiling animatedly. Her confidence in communicating had blossomed since her regular speech therapy sessions had started two school years earlier. She probably didn’t even need them anymore, but had grown close to Mrs. Wilk, finding a certain warmth in the tall middle-aged woman’s kind demeanor and colorful office. El considered her a friend. She often found herself disclosing other minor stresses outside of speech to Mrs. Wilk. Nothing too… _in-depth_ , though.

El waved goodbye to the other teenagers and caught up to Dustin, who was making his way to the table from the end of the lunch line. He said something and she laughed but when she glanced up and caught Mike’s eye, her smile turned stale and her face bloomed red.

Mike frowned, stabbing absentmindedly at a pea on his tray. _What the hell was going on with her?_

Eleven sat down and pulled out her sack lunch, taking inventory of the food shoved in the crinkled paper bag. Pear, turkey sandwich, saltines, granola bar, a packet of skittles. She stuck the skittles in her pocket, planning on breaking into them during her algebra class that followed lunch—one of her least favorite courses. Not that she wasn’t good at math, she just found other topics far more intriguing. Her ankles were crossed beneath her seat. Mike kicked gently at them.

“Hey,” he murmured, soft enough to only attract her attention. Dustin was going off about something that had happened in Chemistry—where he and Mike had both come straight from. Will was grinning and Lucas was busy devouring his mashed potatoes.

“Sick, Lucas,” piped the voice of Natalie Seymour, a tennis-playing math geek with a knack for _Star Trek_ trivia, who took turns between sitting with them and some friends on the tennis team. She fostered a small crush on Dustin, who couldn’t be more oblivious. “Do you want your potatoes to stay _inside_ your mouth? Gosh. Go on with your story, Dustin.”

“Hey,” Mike repeated. El picked her eyes up from her food and met Mike’s but only for a second. She gave him a nod of acknowledgement, taking a bite of her sandwich. “Mr. Henderson lit his sleeve on fire during a presentation in Chem today,” Mike smiled widely, expecting to see her follow suit. After all, the same story Dustin was telling was getting quite a few laughs from _his_ crowd. Though Natalie’s slightly over-the-top giggles didn’t really count.

But all Mike was met with was a small, polite smile, mouth mostly hidden by the sandwich Eleven held in front of her face. “That’s funny,” was her limp reply.

Mike leaned away, just short of stunned. Nothing he did seemed to be working and he was growing increasingly frustrated. He could invent no explanation of why El was acting so strangely, and toward him alone.

El, on the other hand, felt guilt creeping up her gut every time she sensed Mike looking at her. She didn’t _want_ to act the way she was acting—all closed off and tight-lipped and weird. She knew Mike didn’t deserve it, not really, but her body and her brain were on different, totally abashed pages.

Following Nancy’s deep discourse on all things related to… well, _human development_ (to put it in simple terms) that past Friday, El had fled the Wheeler house and had gone to the first place she could think of, somewhere she could be completely alone and just _think_ : the tire swing the boys had hung up deep in the woods near Mirkwood a few years back.

The summer of 1985 had just begun and they were determined to build a tree house—a renovation of Castle Byers. Obviously they got a lot of El’s “special help” as far as getting the heavy materials up into the massive tree they had selected to be the host. But the boys had to piece it together all on their own, hammering away with mostly empty hope that it would turn out well. They topped the somewhat sturdy house off with a swing made from rope and half a tire. It dangled just under the tree and El spent many summer nights there, staring at her jars of lightning bugs (mostly caught by Mike) and swinging back and forth, listening to the boys laugh from above in their beloved hideout. She associated the swing with comfort and childhood; at least what minuscule piece of her childhood was happy and uncomplicated.

But now she faced all sorts of new complications—complications she felt in no way prepared to approach.

She was frightened by the concept of sexuality and what she had spurred in Mike through her ignorant kisses. It embarrassed her and suddenly she was weighed down with unfamiliar insecurities; all at once highly aware of the way pubescent males looked at females in the high school halls—the way they looked at _her_. El was overwhelmed by all of this mature information. It sent her reeling back to a time where her worth was solely determined on her body’s ability to perform—to be poked and prodded and taken advantage of.

She sat on that swing, tears wetting her face, realizing she wanted _Mike_ to be there, to hold her. But she was afraid of what she could do to him now—afraid of a new power she apparently held.

She couldn’t bring herself to behave as she once had with Mike. Even though El _knew_ he wasn’t like the other boys. He cared about her and took care of her and had never before asked her to do anything she wasn’t okay with.

Regardless of all the evidence in favor of Mike Wheeler, she couldn’t stop second-guessing the underlying intentions of the teenage boy.

She loved him with a pureness she simply was no longer sure existed.

The bell rang and echoed through the cafeteria, drawing disgruntled sighs from the lips of the socializing students. El placed her trash into the same brown paper bag and stood up, waving curtly to those at the table and tossing the sack into a garbage can. She dismissed herself without another word, once again leaving Mike staring after her.

“Will,” Mike nudged his arm as the rest of them stood up from the lunch table. Will looked over, wiping a bread crumb from his chin. “Have you noticed…” Mike hesitated, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to himself or El. “Has El been acting weird to you at all this week? Like, I don’t know, just not like herself?”

Another brown paper bag fell into the trashcan, courtesy of Will this time. He shrugged and then shook his head, light brown hair flicking back and forth. “She’s acted normal around me,” he stated. Will frowned at Mike. “I haven’t noticed anything. Sorry, Mike,” he offered remorsefully before heading off in the other direction, toward his A.P. art class. Mike sighed and shook out his hair, defeated.

But then Mike set his jaw and marched to Eleven’s locker, an idea suddenly occurring to him. Locker 451. He ripped open his backpack and tore out a sheet of paper from his blue calculus notebook. He scribbled on it determinedly and folded it up, tucking it safely into the front slots on her stagnant white-colored metal locker. With a huff and a prayer, Mike left for fourth period.

\--------------------

El’s fingers twisted at the combination lock until the thing clicked free. She opened the door up and frowned at the little white slip that fluttered to the tile below her feet. Quirking an eyebrow up, she put her unneeded books away and bent over, picking up the paper in her palm.

_Treehouse after school._

_Love,_

She could already tell by the cramped hand-writing.

_Mike_

El chewed on her thumb nail, eyes scanning the black-inked letters over and over again. She could pretend she hadn’t seen it—had just taken her books home that day on accident rather than stopping by her locker like she usually did. Her eyes searched the words again. El grabbed her jean jacket from the hook inside the locker and slammed it shut.

\-------------------- 

Mike sat in the corner of the stuffy little tree house, back already aching in protest. _We really should’ve built this thing bigger_. He had gotten there fast, darting out of sociology and hopping on his bike within sixty seconds of the release bell ringing. He wanted to be the first one to the tree.

His ears strained through the silence of the surrounding woods, searching for the crunch of leaves or a twig snapping to signify her approach. Mike suddenly wondered if she would even show up. It would be totally out of character for the regular El to stand him up. But he wasn’t dealing with the regular El.

The knob on the door wiggled and then turned and there she was, face pink and chocolate-colored hair tucked behind her ears as she crouched in the doorway.

Mike sat up and reached for her hand, helping her in. She let him take it but sat down a few feet from him, eyes on her shoes as she messed with the laces on her white high tops.

“Thanks for coming,” Mike said lamely. He wanted to punch himself in the face immediately after for sounding like a business executive in some stupid meeting. This was _his_ El; he knew her perfectly (or so he had thought). He knew what made her laugh and what made her cry, her late-night dreams and early-hour nightmares.

“Yeah,” El spoke up, forcing her eyes to his face. She had found herself walking to the tree house despite the nerves stitching at her stomach. This was Mike, dammit. _Her_ Mike; not a monster but a boy—the boy she loved. For a moment she questioned which was scarier.

“El, I know not everything is okay. You’ve been distancing yourself from me all week and I can’t handle—”

The words came spewing out of her mouth before her sense could snatch them back up. “I’m not ready for sex.”

Mike stopped and his face went blank. “Wa—what?”

“I didn’t know before.” El could feel tears welling up in her eyes and stared hard at the wood planks that paneled the floor of the treehouse. “I didn’t know about anything, Mike. I’m—” a sob suddenly broke her words and Mike’s eyes shot to her face, wanting nothing more than to wipe her tears away but he stayed frozen a few feet away, face blood red at her confession. “I’m such a _child_ ,” she concluded, salt on her tongue and vision blurry.

“What do you mean, El? A child?” Mike said it softly.

“Nancy, on Friday—she,” El wiped her nose on the sleeve of her jacket. She used to only do that for blood. Suddenly things clicked for Mike. “She had to tell me everything because I didn’t know. And I know you don’t deserve to be pushed away but I don’t know, I panicked and,” she took a shaky breath and Mike came, hugging her hard and letting her head fall on his shoulder. She collapsed onto him.

He felt like such a damn idiot. Eleven had never been taught anything and now she was being thrown into this situation all at once. He had had no idea. “I’m sorry, Mike,” she cried.

“No, El, gosh, no.” He held her close and let his hand smooth over her hair in the same soothing way his mom had since the time he was a little boy. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” Mike could feel her breathing starting to regulate against his chest. “I would _never_ ,” he shuddered at even the thought, “do anything to hurt you. You know that, don’t you? I just,” she stirred against him, “I would never pressure you into  _anything_ , El.”

They stayed like that, kneeling on the floor of the old tree house, wrapped up in each other’s arms. El had long returned to a state of dry eyes and calm breaths but didn’t want to move away from Mike. She’d been away from him all week already. But she finally pulled back after what seemed like forever and looked hard at Mike.

“Thank you.”

His hands were clasped in hers. “For what?”

El searched his face, soft and captivated. “For being so good.”

She propped herself up on her knees and pressed her lips onto Mike’s like she had never before. Thrown off by the sudden motion, Mike tipped over and fell onto his back. El laughed and crawled over his body, kissing his temples and cheeks and eyelids and then again his mouth, fervent and fiery. Mike felt her melt into the kiss and shifted so she was then beneath him. He pulled his mouth away and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. He brought his lips back right in front of her mouth, where she smiled into him.

“You’re sending me a whole lot of mixed signals here,” Mike whispered, shadowy eyes staring into her golden ones. His elbows kept his upper body barely propped up over her own.

She smirked. “I’m sorry.”

Her fears fell silent as he smiled sweetly and moved to help her up. “Want to watch _Star Wars_ at my house? We can get ice cream on the way.”

She took his hand and brushed the dust from her jeans, a subtle blush on her face. Whatever had she done to deserve Mike Wheeler?

 “I would like nothing more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, how was that? I was really surprised at all the requests for a part 2 and wasn't really sure where to take it. Hopefully you liked it. Let me know :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?? *laughs maniacally* Nancy got payback. Comment your favorite part or a prompt you want to see and light up my dang world. :)
> 
> -Rosy
> 
> AS ALWAYS: Thank you sweet souls for reading.


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